


home for the hollandaise

by azfellbooksellers



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale fails at pop culture references, Crowley tries to cook with...interesting results, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23671555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azfellbooksellers/pseuds/azfellbooksellers
Summary: Cooking breakfast for your significant other should be reasonably easy. That is, unless your significant other is an incredible fussy angel, and you are a demon with no previous cooking experience.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	home for the hollandaise

**Author's Note:**

> Weekly challenge in OLHTS to write a short fic on a particular subject. This week was eggs (Happy Easter if you celebrate!) and I decided to go as SFW as I could with that! Hope you guys enjoy this fluffy little drabble!

Crowley stared down at the offending sauce and wondered if it too could be berated into submission. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

“You,” he began, “are _nothing_ but some eggs and butter! I’ll not have you best me, do you understand? I’m a very powerful and cross demon, and if you don’t thicken, you’ll be seeing the inside of my garbage disposal before you can say ‘double boiler’!” 

He took off his glasses and squinted. Seeing no visible changes, he pulled the whisk out and watched as the broken sauce dripped limply from it. Crowley threw his head back and let out a groan. 

“I hate you,” he told the sauce, pointedly. “I mean it, I really do. And you,” he checked the recipe on his phone. “Gordon Ramsey,” he said in a tone he usually reserved for standstill traffic and gender reveal parties. “I don’t know who you are, but I will find you, and I will make you suffer for this terrible recipe.”

“Been watching Liam Nielsen films again?” Crowley nearly jumped out of his skin. He pressed a hand to his chest and braced himself on the counter with the other. 

“For fuck’s sake, Aziraphale! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” The angel sipped his tea, expression unchanged. “And it’s Neeson, anyway. Liam _Neeson_.”

“That’s nice, dear. What are you doing, anyway?” Crowley grumbled and tried to hide the bowl behind him.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yes. Aziraphale, nothing. I’m standing here...doing nothing.” Another sip of tea. Crowley nearly cracked the counter with his grip.

Lightning fast, Aziraphale put his tea down and wrestled the bowl out from behind Crowley. He peered into it and scrunched his face up, tipping the end of his nose up a smidge more. 

“Is this...scrambled eggs?” He dipped a finger into it, popped it into his mouth, and scowled. “It’s very lemony for eggs.” 

Crowley grabbed the bowl back and dumped it’s contents into the sink, flicking the garbage disposal on for good measure. 

“See,” he said, dipping his face down towards the rapidly disappearing sauce. “Told you so.” Crowley straightened back up and took in Aziraphale’s bewildered expression. He cleared his throat and scratched at his face.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or would you like to continue whispering to our sink?” Crowley dug a toe into the floor and muttered under his breath. “What was that, dear?” 

“I said hollandaise! Was trying to make hollandaise sauce. For egg’s benedict.” 

“Oh! I love egg’s benedict!” Crowley slapped a hand to his forehead. 

“I know, angel, that’s why I was making it. Er, well, trying.” Aziraphale’s face softened.

“You were trying to make me breakfast? That’s so sweet of you.” Crowley batted Aziraphale’s attempt at a hug away.

“M’not sweet. Demonic.” Aziraphale successfully wriggled his way into a hug, and Crowley thunked his sharp chin onto a soft shoulder.

“Now, now. Don’t get cross. I’ve got an entirely different idea of what I’d like to eat for breakfast now.” 

“Mmm, crepes? I can do crepes.” 

“No,” Aziraphale said, drawing out the vowel. “Think harder.”

“Pancakes? Or - oh. _Oh_.” Crowley felt Aziraphale shake with laughter.

“Quite right. Bedroom?” 

“Bedroom, yup.”


End file.
